I believe in kindness--
scent of summer rain,
visceral as earth's collective sigh
when drouth unclenches.
I believe in mercy multitudinous
as corn tassels glimpsed
from the chicken house roof--
and love layered miles up,
stacked like the air above
children cloud-gazing in the grass.
I believe it like the oxygen,
unfelt, feeding my heart.
I've seen it in a thousand
broken mirror reflections
flashing light even
as they sliced my hands.
Simply elegant, Elena. I love the way the imagery moves from gentle -- rain, corn, clouds -- to the sharpness of broken mirror shards and sliced hands -- and yet the hope and the beauty remains. It's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteDr. Impson, I am so glad you enjoyed this! Thank you for your kind words. It's that old story, isn't it, of how the darkness isn't the final word?
DeleteWow...I think that I need to memorize this one:)
ReplyDeleteAw, what a lovely compliment! Maybe I should, too. Sometimes I forget what I believe.
DeletePlease allow me to add my praise to those comments above. This reader finds himself wishing that the poem were longer, as you've created a chain of images by which one is arrested, enticed, fascinated, delighted. One is very reluctant to leave the "world" of this poem!
ReplyDeleteI'm very glad the images drew you in and brought you joy! As I revisit the poem, I do catch a hint it could keep going. Perhaps someday.
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